


Simplicity

by rubygirl29



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson Lives, HEA, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smarm, Sort of a spoiler for the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has two precious things in his life and has nearly lost them both. Miracles do happen.</p><p>*Clint's Nocking Point t-shirt ... yes, it's for real!</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://nockingpointwines.com/product/mens-classic-t-shirt/"> Nocking Point </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Simplicity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Diek09 for his one letter 5 word meme on LJ.
> 
>  
> 
> **My Letter=S**
> 
>  
> 
>  **The words:**  
>  Sunshine  
> Sorrow  
> Sing  
> Sweet  
> Shot

**Simplicity**

Clint doesn't often have a chance to shoot on an outside range just to practice. Tony Stark has engineered this great practice range at S.H.I.E.L.D. that he updates with just about every virtual scenario Clint can come up against, and a few he's encountered in real life that didn't turn out as well as he had hoped. Best thing? He doesn't have to worry about falling off a building, just landing on a nice, cushy airbag.

He misses being outdoors, though. There aren't many places he can go in New York to shoot arrows at impossible targets. Today, however, he's not in the Big Apple; he's at Tony's Malibu estate with the whole wide horizon ahead of him. The sunlight moves on the waters like diamonds cast into the air. It couldn't be a more perfect day. He hums under his breath as he prepares to shoot; slipping on a glove, checking his arm guards. He's wearing old, faded jeans and a gray _Nocking Point Winery_ T-shirt, not his high-tech armor. 

He isn't using the fancy arrows Stark makes for him. His arrows are old-growth larch that he fletched by hand, using feathers from a red-tail hawk. He isn't using his high-tech bow. He's shooting a simple recurve made of osage wood, pretty and graceful, supple and strong. It's his first love returned. A long time ago, he lost his first precious recurve bow in a fire and has mourned its loss ever since. 

The breeze off the ocean is salty and fresh, the sun is warm overhead. He's set up a target parallel to the ocean. It's not as far away as he would like, but far enough for this bow. 

He takes a breath, nocks an arrow and draws back, feeling the muscles in his back tighten, the bones of his shoulders slip into alignment. He narrows his eyes and releases the arrow. It hits the bulls-eye with a sold thud. He sets up for another shot, releases it, hears it sing through the air, and fly true to split the first shaft in half. 

"You only do that to show-off." 

Clint turns and smiles at Phil. "I knew you were watching." He sets the bow down and peels off his shooting glove. He slots his body next to Phil's and feels a sweet, heavy weight in his chest. "C'mere."

"I wasn't going anywhere." Phil settles perfectly into Clint's hold. His bones are still too sharp for Clint's liking, but he looks fit, his skin flushed by the heat of the sun, his jeans no longer gapping at his waist. Clint closes his eyes, feeling tears burning along the rims. For weeks, as Phil lingered near death, Clint thought he had cried out all the tears he had in his body. 

Those were tears of bitter sorrow. These are tears of joy; sweet, scalding, aching and hopeful. Clint is glad they are hidden behind his dark glasses. "I love this bow," he whispers against Phil's cheek. "I never thought I'd have another."

"Sometimes you get lucky." Phil's voice sounds a bit rough, the color on his face deepens.

Clint's fingers play lightly across his clavicle. The curve of it, the notch, remind him of his bow, but infinitely more precious. He sighs, not wanting to go back inside, but to stay and enjoy the silence with Phil. "We both need water," he says as an excuse. He means that Phil needs to take care of himself, but if he said that, Coulson would kick his shins and growl that he was fine. 

"Tony was called back to New York. Stark Industries business," Phil adds as Clint tenses. "Nothing we need to worry about."

"You know I'll worry every time we get called out."

"Welcome to my world, Agent."

Clint grins at his lover. "So, we've got the whole place to ourselves?"

"I know the codes to turn off JARVIS," Phil deadpans. 

"So, I can sing in the shower without being recorded?"

"If that's what you want ..." Phil's blue eyes crinkle at the corners. "I had something a little more creative in mind."

"I'm all about creative." Clint leans in and kisses Phil, tasting the sea salt on his lips, breathing in the scent that is Phil's. This is happiness. This is home. This is his heart, healed.

**The End**


End file.
